


no simple language

by joshllyman



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bokuto Koutarou Has ADHD, Bokuto Koutarou probably has other issues that aren't specifically named here, Fluff, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Nonbinary Akaashi Keiji, Nonbinary Character, Other, Touch-Starved Akaashi Keiji, god it's like i've never tagged a fic before, i guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:28:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24749119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joshllyman/pseuds/joshllyman
Summary: The first time he catches Akaashi in a hug, they stiffen under his touch.The feelings had overwhelmed him, as they so often do, but instead of the wave ofyou’re awful they all hate you you don’t deserve to stand on this courtthat sometimes crests in his brain, it had beenyou actually did something right, sometimes you’re not terrible, but it was mostly because of Akaashi’s good setand he’d been so thrilled at the change that he’d thrown his arms around the person who’d made it possible without thinking.“Sorry,” Bokuto says immediately, letting go and backing away a step. He avoids their eyes, afraid of what he might find. “I didn’t mean...I know you’re not…”“It’s alright, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says. Bokuto looks at them out of the corner of his eye. They seem to be avoiding his gaze as well. “It just surprised me.”
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 20
Kudos: 168





	no simple language

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be just a lil bit of touch starved akaashi....6200 words later....here we are

The first time he catches Akaashi in a hug, they stiffen under his touch.

The feelings had overwhelmed him, as they so often do, but instead of the wave of  _ you’re awful they all hate you you don’t deserve to stand on this court _ that sometimes crests in his brain, it had been  _ you actually did something right, sometimes you’re not terrible, but it was mostly because of Akaashi’s good set _ and he’d been so thrilled at the change that he’d thrown his arms around the person who’d made it possible without thinking. 

“Sorry,” Bokuto says immediately, letting go and backing away a step. He avoids their eyes, afraid of what he might find. “I didn’t mean...I know you’re not…”

“It’s alright, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says. Bokuto looks at them out of the corner of his eye. They seem to be avoiding his gaze as well. “It just surprised me.”

They stand awkwardly in the middle of the court, sort of looking at each other but mostly looking away, until Konoha yells at them for holding up practice, and then they scramble back into routine and familiarity.

***

Bokuto gets distracted in the locker room that afternoon. There’s a pimple on his back, right in the middle where he can feel it but can’t quite see it, but it’s bugging him and he wants it gone and—

“Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto looks up mid-twist, caught with his hands literally behind his back. “Hi, Akaashi,” he says, smiling, until he looks around and realizes there’s no one else in the room. “Sorry, were you waiting for me?”

“Yes.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Bokuto says, trying to put the pimple out of his mind. He untwists and pulls his button-up over his shoulders. “I’ll be right there.”

“I wasn’t waiting for you so we could leave,” Akaashi says. 

Bokuto stops on the third button. “Sorry?”

“Please stop apologizing, Bokuto-san. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Right. Sorry. No, wait, shit.” Akaashi gives him a tiny smile as he runs his hands through his hair. “So, um, why were you waiting for me then?”

Akaashi squirms, and Bokuto looks away. Sometimes it’s easier for them, he’s noticed, if he’s not looking right at them, so he studies their shoes, clean and neat and nothing like his own scuffed pair. 

“I was wondering if, perhaps, you could try what you did earlier again.”

Bokuto’s brows furrow as he thinks back, trying to place what Akaashi is talking about. “Uh...the back attack from the right?” he questions.

“Um, no.” Akaashi’s face is red. Bokuto can’t figure out why they’re embarrassed. “The...hug.”

“Oh!” Bokuto does the last few buttons on his shirt. “Yeah, we can do that. Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

“I’m not opposed to hugs, Bokuto-san. I was simply surprised earlier. I’ll be much less...tense, this time.”

Bokuto chews on his bottom lip while he considers Akaashi. They’re nervous, still, not quite meeting his eyes, but they seem certain. 

“I’ll hug you, Kaashi,” he decides. “But if you start to feel uncomfortable, tap my arm or something and I’ll pull away, okay?”

“That’s very considerate.” Akaashi’s voice is softer than before. “I will keep that in mind.”

Bokuto hasn’t made it past his boxers, and it turns out he’d messed up the buttons in his haste to get them done. He’s only got one sock on. Akaashi, on the other hand, is fully dressed, a jacket over his uniform, his bag on his shoulder. Bokuto crosses the room and opens his arms, inviting Akaashi to bridge the last bit of distance between them, which they do. They throw their weight at him a little aggressively, but Bokuto’s a bulky guy and stands his ground okay. Their grip on his waist is tight, a little tighter than comfortable and certainly tighter than he’d expected them to grab on. They’re just tall enough that when Bokuto turns his head, he gets a nose full of their curls, and he absentmindedly wonders what kind of shampoo they must use because they smell really wonderful, like citrus and rain and sky. He exhales and rubs their back gently, the way his uncle does when he’s in town and has the chance to visit and give hugs. 

He kind of loses track of time as they stand there. He thought Akaashi would pull away pretty quickly, but they don’t. They don’t make any movement at all, except to relax their grip a little bit, their shoulders releasing the strain they’d been carrying. Bokuto closes his eyes. All the thoughts in his head go quiet, which is really nice and really rare so he doesn’t mind that his back’s a little cramped and his unsocked foot is getting cold. Akaashi sighs, and they sound content.

“Hey Akaashi, I forgot my—” 

Sarukui stops both his mouth and the motion of his feet comes into the full scene. Bokuto releases Akaashi from the hug, and the three of them stare at each other. Bokuto shuffles his feet awkwardly. 

“Jacket,” Sarukui finishes. “Um, sorry?”

“It’s alright,” Akaashi says quietly.

“I’m just gonna…”

He trails off and looks back and forth between Akaashi and Bokuto. Bokuto’s thoughts are loud again,  _ he thinks you’re weird and annoying just like everyone else— _

Sarukui goes to his locker and retrieves his jacket. On his way out, he slaps Bokuto’s back.

“See you guys tomorrow! Be...safe!”

Kind of a weird way to say goodbye to someone, but not the worst thing anyone had ever wished upon him. Bokuto goes back to his pile of clothing and works on fixing his shirt.

By the time he’s dressed, it’s quiet enough in the locker room that Bokuto assumes Akaashi has left, but when he turns around, they’re still standing where he left them, eyes cast downward on the floor, arms loose at their sides.

“Are you okay?” Bokuto asks, his voice coming out uncharacteristically hushed.

Akaashi looks up at him, and then just to his right. “Yes. Are you ready?”

They walk out together, and then down the street toward the train station. Silence hangs between them still, but it doesn’t feel awkward or overwhelming, and Bokuto can’t think of a single thing to say to fill it, which is unlike him. His head voices aren’t silent, but they’re not clamoring, either; he thinks they must be just as confused as he is.

Akaashi’s stop is two before Bokuto’s. When it’s called, they turn to Bokuto. “Thank you,” they say, bowing at the waist and turning to step off the train.

Bokuto finally manages to get his tongue unstuck as the doors are closing. “You’re welcome!” he calls at Akaashi’s retreating back. He thinks he sees them pause for the slightest moment as the train pulls away. 

He thinks about it the rest of the night.

***

Bokuto doesn’t sleep well, through some combination of still thinking about Akaashi and just being too goddamn hot. He’s definitely grumbly over breakfast the next morning, which he’s certain his mother notices, because she kisses his head no fewer than three times over the course of the morning as she coerces his brothers into getting ready for school. Bokuto helps wrangle them long enough to get them dressed and fed before he has to leave.

He doesn’t walk as quickly as he should, which results in being slightly late for morning practice, but everyone else is already stretching under Akaashi’s firm, quiet leadership.  _ They don’t even need you, why do you bother _ , the voices say, and he frowns. They’re up early this morning, he realizes with a sigh, or perhaps they never quite got to sleep last night, either. It’s going to result in a bad day, and the truth of it leaves him on edge. 

He changes as quickly as he can and heads out to join his team, plastering a smile on his face. The other boys smile and wave as he jogs across the court, stretching his arms over his head in an attempt to catch up. 

“Good morning, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi greets him as he plops down to stretch his legs with the rest of them. 

“Morning, Akaashi!” He grins widely. “Sorry I’m late, the boys were rowdy this morning so I helped Mom out a little bit!”

“Of course,” Akaashi says gracefully. 

Practice goes about as well as he can hope for with the voices this loud already. It’s certainly not the worst practice he’s ever endured, but he’s off his game and has to fight every moment to drown out the noise inside his head. He’s grateful when the coach calls it halfway through to give them a chance to do some laps around the campus. 

When his head is in a good space, he runs faster than most everyone else, the little happy chemicals pumping through him and encouraging him to go harder (Akaashi had been the one to teach him about endorphins, and how exercise can make your brain feel good). When his head isn’t so good, he hangs back, intentionally pacing himself with the rest of the team so that their easy chatter can distract him from the crescendo of his mind. Today he runs alongside Akaashi, and while they’re at the front of the pack, they’re still only a few steps ahead of Komi. It’s a good run, overall. He’s definitely got some shit in his head but he manages to beat back most of it, and he wonders if he can salvage this day after all. 

The locker room is loud when the team gets back. Konoha’s giving Onaga a hard time about something or other. Bokuto’s on the edge of intervening when Akaashi pulls Onaga aside and draws him into conversation. Konoha grumbles before going back to conversation with Komi.

Bokuto is grateful for about the thousandth time that he’d chosen Akaashi as his vice-captain. Bokuto’s approach would have been totally different, more confrontational, but Akaashi took care of everything without even saying anything to Konoha.  _ They don’t need you, you’re just a burden _ , say the voices.

Around Onaga’s shoulder, Akaashi meets his eyes. Bokuto turns away and studies his shoelaces.

The others file out after a few moments, heading to their classes. Bokuto is standing beside the bench with an energy bar in his hand, sort of eating it but also sort of staring at a spot where the paint’s chipped off the locker in front of him, when arms wrap around him from behind, taking him by surprise. He twists just enough to see it’s Akaashi, whose head is turned firmly away from Bokuto’s face.

“Uh, hi?” Bokuto says.

Akaashi remains motionless and silent. Bokuto turns in their hold to give them a proper hug. Once again, Akaashi’s touch seems to shut up the cacophony inside. Their chests rise and fall together, their breathing lining up as they hold each other. He’s tempted to kiss Akaashi’s head the way his mother had kissed his this morning, to bury his nose in Akaashi’s soft curls and press his lips to their skin. He’s debating pros and cons when Akaashi pulls away.

“Thanks,” Bokuto breathes, a warmth emanating through him. “I needed that.”

“Yes,” Akaashi agrees. 

They watch him as he’s eating his second breakfast. He’s slinging his bag over his shoulder when a thought occurs to him.

“Akaashi…” Bokuto purses his lips. “Do you like hugs?”

Akaashi blinks. Their eyes flicker toward the door, like they might try to make a break for it instead of answering. As Bokuto watches, their shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath.

“I don’t have a lot of experience in them,” they confess. Their eyes meet Bokuto’s. “But human contact is a good way to stimulate serotonin and dopamine.”

Bokuto tilts his head. “Those are the happy chemicals, right?”

Akaashi nods. “Do you like hugs, Bokuto-san?”

“Oh, yeah!” Bokuto answers. He begins to walk toward the door, because if they don’t leave soon, they’ll be late for class, and then Akaashi will be upset. Akaashi follows closely behind. “Dad used to give the best hugs when I was a kid! Like when I’d fall down and scrape my knee or something, you know, my dad would just pick me up and squeeze all the pain right out of me!”

Akaashi watches him in silence. His feet stop automatically at the vending machine, because he knows Akaashi will want coffee.

“It’s probably just the—what did you call it? Sero..tonin?”

“And dopamine, yes,” Akaashi says as they punch in numbers.

“Yeah, that,” Bokuto says. He leans against the machine. “But there’s really something good about just being in someone’s arms and feeling really safe and secure, like nothing can hurt you. I guess our brains are good at tricking us that way, huh?”

Akaashi bends over and retrieves their drink. They start punching the number pad again, and Bokuto supposes they must want another for later. “I don’t know if it’s a trick, per se,” Akaashi says. The can clatters noisily to the bottom of the machine. “I think it’s a defense mechanism, perhaps. Something humans have learned through millions of years of shared memory.”

They retrieve the second drink and press it into Bokuto’s hands. “For you,” they say, and they do that thing where they don’t quite look at him. Bokuto blushes.

“Oh! Thanks, Kaashi! I didn’t sleep at all last night.”

“I’m aware.”

“Huh?”

“There are bags under your eyes.”

“Aw, man.” He wipes at his face as if this will make them go away. “That shared memory thing sounds cool, though. You’ll have to tell me more about it sometime.”

“Of course,” Akaashi agrees. They walk on, side by side up the steps that take them to classes. Akaashi stops on the second floor and looks at Bokuto. “I’ll see you at lunch, Bokuto-san.”

“Bye, Kaashi! Have a good day!”

Akaashi stands there for another moment. Bokuto can see they’re turning something over in their head. When Akaashi had described their thought process to him, he’d thought of those fountains that have a big ball in them that stays up at the top of the crest of the water, spinning around and around with the force of the pressure. 

Whatever they’re turning over, they seem to need to turn it a little longer, or maybe in a different direction. They turn on their heel and walk to class without another word. 

Bokuto cracks his coffee open and chugs it down in one go.

***

“Scientifically speaking,” Akaashi says, “It’s probably best if one gets hugs every day, isn’t it?”

Bokuto looks up from the paperwork he’d been working on. Thursdays are always their days for completing any club paperwork that needs done. When Bokuto had chosen Akaashi as his vice captain, everyone had assumed he’d done so to avoid doing any paperwork himself. He does twice as much, just to spite them all, even though they haven’t actually asked. Given that there’s only a few forms tonight, Bokuto had taken the pile for himself and waved away Akaashi’s offer for help.

He scratches his head as he considers. “I mean...probably? You said it helps your brain make the good stuff, so it’s probably best if you make it make more good stuff...more often.”

He’d kind of lost himself in the middle of that sentence, but Akaashi seemed to understand, because they nod solemnly.

“As such.” Akaashi squirms in their seat, and then they set their jaw and look Bokuto in the eye. “I’d like it if you could hug me every day from now on, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto stares just a moment too long, forgetting to answer because he’s a little too caught up in the serious gleam in Akaashi’s eyes and the look of resolution on their face.

“Yeah!” he finally manages. “Yeah, yeah, of course! Let’s do it right now!”

“It can wait until we depart from each other,” Akaashi says, and they relax a little. A small smile settles itself on their lips. “That seems to be custom.”

“We can hug in the mornings, too, if you want,” Bokuto says carefully. He doesn’t want to push anything Akaashi doesn’t actually want. “Twice a day is twice the happy stuff.”

“Alright,” Akaashi agrees.

Bokuto is about to go back to his paperwork, has his pen back in his hand and everything, when he remembers something and looks up again.

“Is that what you were spinning earlier? This morning, your fountain seemed very...fountain-y.”

“That was part of it,” Akaashi says. 

“Okay.”

Bokuto goes back to his paperwork for real this time, filling in all the forms with the neatest handwriting he can manage (and honestly, it’s a lot better than it used to be since he switched his grip on the pen). He finishes off the last form and carefully sets everything in the manila folder on the desk so that Coach can look it over in the morning. 

“All done! You wanna stop for nori or something on the way to the train? I’m kinda hungry.”

“Yes, I am, too.”

Bokuto follows Akaashi out of the office. A song pops into his head as they begin to walk down to the convenience store, so he hums it as quietly as he can to himself, trying not to bother Akaashi or anyone they might pass by. It’s frustrating, though, because it’s just the chorus, over and over again, and he can’t seem to remember the next segment.  _ Stupid _ , say the voices,  _ forgetful, idiotic— _

“The other thing I was thinking about,” Akaashi says, cutting through the noise as they have a habit of doing. Bokuto finds that they’re standing in the sweets aisle of the convenience store and didn’t realize he’d been paying so little attention. “Was your plans for the weekend.”

Bokuto cocks his head. “You were thinking about my plans for the weekend?”

“Yes.” Akaashi’s tongue darts out to lick their lips. “Specifically I wondered if you had any.”

Bokuto’s a forgetful sort of person (and there’s a bit of the voices again,  _ foolish, imbecile _ ) but he thinks hard about it, because a good hard think can shut the voices up sometimes, too. His mother’s got a shift Friday night late, so he’ll need to be home then, but the rest of the weekend she has off because she wanted to take the boys to some park in town where they were having a community children’s festival.

“Nope,” he answers, and he hopes it hasn’t been too long since Akaashi asked. “I don’t have plans. Do you?”

Akaashi takes a fierce interest in the bag of gummy worms they’re holding in their hands. “A new anime came out on Netflix,” they say quietly. “I was going to watch it.”

“That sounds really fun, ‘Kaashi!” Bokuto exclaims, slapping them on the back. They don’t jolt the way they sometimes do, so he thinks he’s remembered to hold back. “You’ll have to tell me about it on Monday.”

Akaashi replaces the gummy worms on the hook and takes a step in the direction of the chocolates. “If you came over and watched it with me, I wouldn’t have to tell you about it.”

Bokuto follows after them and looks at the KitKat selection. “Do you want me to come over and watch it with you so you don’t have to tell me about it?”

Akaashi’s hand halts on its way to the shelf. They turn their head to Bokuto. “I want you to come over and watch it so that…” They purse their lips thoughtfully, and then they turn back to the chocolate. “So that we can watch it together.”

Bokuto picks up a matcha KitKat and hands it to Akaashi. “That sounds great,” he says, smiling warmly. “I’d like that a lot.”

***

On Saturday morning, Akaashi arrives in the locker room, crosses over to hug Bokuto, and then goes about changing and preparing for practice.

They did the same thing on Friday morning, but there weren’t witnesses then. Today, Akaashi is the fourth person into the school, after Bokuto, Konoha, and Washio. Bokuto looks up from his kneepads to find Konoha staring at him and Washio staring at Akaashi. Then they switch. 

“Did you need something?” Akaashi asks, looking at both of them in turn.

“Nope,” Konoha says, turning away quickly and stripping off his shirt. “Nope, definitely not.”

Akaashi throws him a small smile before they turn away.

After practice, Bokuto and Akaashi walk to the train station together, but this time, Bokuto gets off with Akaashi at their stop, two stops before his own. Akaashi leads him several blocks away from the train into a quiet neighborhood with many houses that all look basically the same to Bokuto. But maybe his eyes are untrained, or something.

With three little brothers, it is rarely quiet in the Bokuto household. Sometimes it’s nice, because if there are three small children yelling it’s frequently too noisy to hear anything that might be going on in Bokuto’s head. Sometimes, however, it’s just all of them yelling, all at once, and it’s overwhelming in the worst sort of way.

The Akaashi household doesn’t seem to have this problem. Akaashi doesn’t call out to anyone that they’re home when they arrive, and they have to unlock the door themself. Bokuto slips his shoes off in the genkan and hovers awkwardly.

“Are your parents home?” Bokuto asks. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“Out of the country,” Akaashi answers shortly. They walk into the kitchen, and Bokuto follows after. “They are most of the time.”

“Oh.” 

“Would you like some juice?”

“Sure.”

Akaashi pulls out a bottle of juice and pours some for each of them into real glasses. The Bokuto household hasn’t had glass cups since Bokuto broke his third when he was eight, and the image of him dropping juice on the floor of his own kitchen parades through his mind uninvited. He keeps both hands firmly on his juice.

“What are they doing?” Bokuto asks.

Akaashi sits heavily at the kitchen table. Bokuto sets his own glass down before attempting the same. “Research,” they respond. “They’re marine biologists.”

“What are they studying?”

“Whales.”

“Oh, wow! That’s amazing!” Bokuto exclaims. Akaashi spares him a tiny smile before looking down into their juice. Bokuto chews on the inside of his cheek. “Are they...not home very much?”

“Only off season,” Akaashi responds. “My grandmother took care of me when I was younger.”

Bokuto has a million more questions, but Akaashi seems to really not want to talk about this.  _ You’re bothering them _ , the voices say. Bokuto shakes his head.

“So what’s this anime about?” he asks, hoping a change in subject will brighten Akaashi’s mood.

It seems to work. Akaashi explains the basic plot in low tones, and Bokuto considers, not for the first time, how soothing their voice is. It’s soothing enough that he doesn’t really take in the words they’re saying, which means he’s probably going to be a little lost when they get started, but that’s okay. 

They both finish their juice, and Akaashi leads him over to the couch. It’s nice, nicer than anything that’s ever been in Bokuto’s home (why bother with expensive couches when four rowdy boys are determined to destroy your furniture, anyway). Bokuto feels a little anxious sitting on it because he’s afraid he might ruin it. Akaashi, on the other hand, approaches in a feline-like manner, turning several times, this way and that, before they settle on a position that is comfortable. Once they’re sitting, they gather their legs up underneath them so that it doesn’t look like they have any at all. 

Bokuto fidgets with his nails while Akaashi convinces Netflix to show them the show. He’s still worried he might somehow ruin the Akaashi family’s very nice furniture when Akaashi turns their head to him.

“It’s a recliner, you know,” they say. “Automated. The button’s on the inside of the arm.”

This is how Bokuto discovers that the chair is also heated, so it’s officially the best chair in the universe. He settles in comfortably as the opening theme for the show begins.

“Hey, ‘Kaashi,” he says. “Would you...uh. Would you mind putting on the subtitles? It’s kinda hard for me to hear everything all at once and still understand what they’re saying.”

“Difficulties with auditory processing are common in patients with ADHD,” Akaashi says, which doesn’t actually answer the question, but they do fiddle with the remote until there are kanji on the bottom of the screen. 

The show is excellent. It turns out to be about talking animals with superpowers, but not in a cutesy way, in a totally badass kind of way. Bokuto’s hooked before the first episode is even over. The second episode plays through, and he’s barely even aware of his surroundings when he feels a pressure in his hand.

“I was thinking we could order takeout for dinner, if you wanted to stay,” Akaashi says, their eyes still fixed on the screen and not on the hand that is curling its way around Bokuto’s.

Bokuto blinks down at the contact, like there should be words to explain it. When he finds there aren’t any, he goes back to watching the show.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “That’d be good.”

It’s several minutes later before Akaashi speaks up again, their voice small, barely audible over an explosion on the screen. “Is this okay?”

Bokuto laces their fingers together. “Yeah. It’s real good.”

Akaashi turns their head in his direction, and Bokuto looks away from the rabbit character beating up the wolf. Akaashi’s smile is shy, like it usually is, and there could be a faint blush across their cheeks. It’s hard to say, because maybe it’s just the glow from the screen.

“Okay,” they say, and they stare at him another moment before turning back to the show.

Bokuto will admit: he has a harder time focusing with Akaashi’s hand in his own. But it’s worth it, and he’ll take the quiet reminder of the presence at his side over a television show any day.

***

Akaashi’s gentle touches worm their way into Bokuto’s daily routine. 

There are their scheduled twice daily hugs, once in the morning upon greeting each other for the first time, and once in the evening just before departing. But there are other touches, too. A hand on his knee at lunch when his brain is so incredibly loud it starts to leak from his eyes. A grasp of his shoulder when he makes a particularly good cross. A pat on the back for no reason that Bokuto can discern at all.

Saturdays at Akaashi’s house become part of his routine, as well. They make their way through the animal superhero one, and then there’s one about girls in a high school rock band, and then there’s a magical girl show that Akaashi says they watched all the time as a kid but haven’t seen in years. They watch ten or twelve episodes a week, balancing takeout boxes on their knees as they sit in the excessively quiet apartment. Akaashi picks a piece of chicken out of Bokuto’s meal without saying anything at all one week. Bokuto steals a pepper out of Akaashi’s box, and then they’re picking meals to coordinate what might go best together so they can mix and match. Bokuto insists on cooking a meal for Akaashi one week, but Akaashi won’t let him do it alone, so they dance around each other in the kitchen as they prepare dinner. In a lot of ways, Bokuto considers, cooking with someone is like volleyball. He voices this thought to Akaashi as they’re eating, and Akaashi’s brows furrow in consideration.

_ Stupid _ , say the voices.  _ That doesn’t even make sense. _

“That makes a lot of sense,” Akaashi says. “We are attuned to each other’s bodies, in a way, because we’re used to working around each other on the court. It’s important that I know where you are at all times. My innate sense of your location and actions at any given time, and yours of mine, would translate to other useful skills, as well, such as cooking together. Cleaning together, I imagine.”

Bokuto smiles, because Akaashi can always take the half-formed thoughts that pass through his lips and make them into something good. “Yeah.”

The week after they cook together, Bokuto has to call Akaashi early Saturday morning and inform them he won’t be at practice and can’t come over for anime time. “Mom’s super sick and someone’s gotta take care of the boys,” he sighs. There’s a crash in the kitchen that has Bokuto wincing.

“It’s no problem at all, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says into the phone. They sound like they’ve just woken up. “Would you like me to come over and assist you after practice?”

Bokuto thinks about it, his heart wishing for Akaashi’s presence at his side. “Nah,” he says. “I don’t want to risk you getting whatever my mom’s got. I’m used to the boys, anyway. We’ve got four Wii controllers, so maybe I’ll just set up a  _ Mario Kart _ tournament.”

“Educational,” Akaashi says, and Bokuto knows their voice well enough by now to know it’s light-hearted sarcasm in their tone.

“Aw, it’s Saturday, ‘Kaashi.”

“I know. I’m teasing you. Have fun with your brothers. I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Bye! Tell everyone hi from me!”

“I will.”

Bokuto does, indeed, set up a  _ Mario Kart _ tournament that day, but he doesn’t end up playing himself, alternating between cheering on whichever of his brothers is in last place and going to check on his mother. She’s feeling better by the early evening, which is good, because all the back and forth has exhausted him.

“I don’t know how you do it, Mom,” he says over the pot of curry he’s stirring. “I can’t even handle myself most days, much less three extra people.”

“You hardly need handled, Kou, dear,” his mother says. “And you get used to it.”

When Monday morning comes around, Akaashi’s hug seems to last a little longer than normal. They look tired, and Bokuto pulls back from their hug to look them in the eyes.

“Are you okay?”

Akaashi nods. “I didn’t get much sleep this weekend.”

Bokuto pulls them back against his chest. “You can skip practice this afternoon if you need.”

Akaashi huffs. “Not on your life, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto grins. That’s his Akaashi.

***

The following Saturday, they’re starting a new anime, something about ice skaters. Sports anime doesn’t seem Akaashi’s type, from what they’ve watched together so far, but it had been their suggestion, so Bokuto goes along with it happily enough. The animation is beautiful, and he gets caught up in the storyline quickly. It only takes half an episode before Akaashi takes his hand. They’re going to order food later. Everything is going well.

A bit into the second episode, Akaashi scoots a little closer to Bokuto on his heated recliner.

Bokuto doesn’t think much of it. Akaashi runs much colder than he does generally, so maybe he’s leeching body heat. It’s half a moment’s distraction before he turns back to the television.

Just before the end of the same episode, Akaashi moves close enough that their toes are bumping up against Bokuto’s thigh.

It could still be that they’re cold, Bokuto supposes, but now that they’re touching him they don’t feel cold. Come to think of it, their hand hadn’t felt cold before. Strange. Maybe they’re just restless today.

At the beginning of the third episode, they stretch their feet out so that they’re sitting next to Bokuto’s on the footrest of the recliner.

Never, in all the weeks they’ve been watching anime, has Akaashi ever done this. 

“Did you get hurt at practice today or something?” Bokuto asks, turning to Akaashi.

“Hm?” Akaashi says, not looking away from the screen. “No, I’m fine.”

Bokuto blinks. “Okay.”

It’s hard to focus when his brain is trying to come up with all the reasons Akaashi’s acting differently today. Maybe they’re not injured, but just sore. Maybe they’ve sat on their part of the couch so much that it’s squished the wrong way and it’s not comfortable anymore. Maybe someone else has taken over Akaashi’s body and is possessing them.

“‘Kaashi?”

“Yes, Bokuto-san?”

“You didn’t get possessed, did you?”

Akaashi turns away now, an amused smile curving their lips just so. “I don’t think so. What makes you ask?”

“Nothing,” Bokuto says, blushing bright red.  _ You really couldn’t have come up with anything else,  _ say the voices.  _ Ridiculous, pathetic, stupid _ .

The television is still playing the skating boys, but Bokuto isn’t absorbing it at all anymore. Between Akaashi’s strange behavior and the caterwauling of the voices in his head, a meteorite could crash land in the living room right now and he probably wouldn’t notice. He goes through the calming methods Akaashi and his therapist have taught him, the breathing, the distractions, naming the thoughts and telling them to go away. None of it helps.

When the credits for the episode roll, Akaashi stretches and hops off the couch to go order food. Bokuto pinches himself to make sure he’s not dreaming or in an alternate reality or something. He’s not dreaming, because he definitely feels the pinch, but he’s not sure about the alternate reality. Maybe pinches feel different in an alternate reality. He can’t be sure.

When Akaashi returns, they lift his arm up, press themself into his side, and rest their head against him. His hand falls around their shoulder.

They don’t press play on the show. Bokuto can hear his own heart, fluttering rapidly against the prison of his ribcage, and the shallow breathing that he can’t seem to even out.

“Is this okay?” Akaashi asks.

Bokuto doesn’t answer right away. He’s not sure how to say it’s not just okay, it’s great and he kinda doesn’t want to ever not be doing this. That every hug Akaashi has ever given him has restored him, piece by piece, and he’s pretty sure that Akaashi has magic in their skin or something. That he’s realizing, in this very moment, that he’s not sure if he ever wants to be away from Akaashi. That they could spend the rest of their lives together and he’s certain they could be happy.

It’s a lot of big thoughts, and it’s overwhelming, and he tenses. Akaashi feels it, they have to, because they begin to pull away—

“Don’t go,” Bokuto says.

Akaashi freezes too. “Okay.”

“My brain’s too loud,” Bokuto says.

Akaashi waits. Bokuto tries to sort out his thinking, tries to grab the errant thoughts that fly around and string them together into some sort of sensible, cohesive,  _ something _ that he can say to present all these huge, life-changing thoughts to Akaashi.

“Sometimes I wish you could just be in my head,” Bokuto says. “So you could see all the things I’m thinking. I don’t know. I guess it’s kind of a mess in here.”

“I don’t think it’s a mess at all,” Akaashi says. “Take all the time you need.”

Bokuto nods, slowly. Akaashi sinks into his side. 

Nothing can ever make the voices go away. Bokuto knows this. They will always be there, at the back of his mind, waiting for the right time to strike. Some days will be better than others. 

But another thing that Bokuto knows is this: Akaashi’s presence makes the voices cooperate a little better. Sometimes, they can say things right to the voices, like they already know what’s going through his head. Sometimes, they hug him at the right time, just when he feels like he’s going to fall apart. Sometimes, he thinks Akaashi might know him almost as well as he knows himself.

“This is very good,” Bokuto says. “I like holding you.”

“I like to be held by you,” Akaashi answers. “I imagine I would also like holding you, if the situation were reversed.”

“I like talking to you, and watching anime with you, and playing volleyball with you.”

“I also enjoy those things.”

“I think I like you, Akaashi.”

Akaashi doesn’t answer that, not out loud. What they do instead is look up at him, right at him, not a little bit to the right like they do when they’re uncomfortable. They meet his gaze, their eyes bright, and slowly lean in.

Akaashi’s lips against his cheek aren’t quite like any of the ways they’ve touched before. For one, Bokuto’s never felt their lips, but for another, it’s never made him feel warm in this way before. He thinks he might be blushing, but if he’s blushing, he’s blushing all over, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. It’s not embarrassment or shame. It’s just warmth, pleasant and sweet and wonderful.

Then they lean away, resting their head against his chest again. They reach for the remote and press play on the television. The fourth episode of the ice skating anime starts to play, and Bokuto is really, really happy.

He closes his eyes when the familiar opening theme begins to play. He leans down just a little, just enough to bury his nose in Akaashi’s soft curls. His lips make contact with the crown of Akaashi’s head.

“I definitely like you,” he says, amending his earlier statement.

“I definitely like you, too,” Akaashi says, and Bokuto can hear the way they’re smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> i made up the superhero animal anime, but the other ones i mention are k-on, cardcaptor sakura, and yuri on ice (the first two are definitely on us netflix, i truly have no idea on yoi, i've never actually seen it)  
> listen, the title's from "love song for a savior" by jars of clay but it has nothing to do with the fic, i just liked that song a lot when i was a kid and the title popped into my head  
> socials at joshllyman.carrd.co


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